


Three Short Fics About Peggysous

by Paeonia



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, Peggysous Appreciation Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4117383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paeonia/pseuds/Paeonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three short fics written for Peggysous week 2015.</p><p>Prompts:<br/>1. "Affection"<br/>2. "Song"<br/>3. "Parallels"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prompt: "Affection"

1.

When did it start? She isn’t sure at all. Was it when he made that little joke in the file room and made her laugh? Was it when he told her he’d bet against her, with that infuriatingly innocent look on his face?

She’s pretty sure she knows when she first knew.

“Another time, then.” Oh, the grin on his face… she’d smiled as she watched him go back to his desk, it was a compliment to be asked out by a good man, and the way he’d asked (drinks at nine in the morning? oh Daniel), how long had he been thinking about it? She looked up again, saw him shuffling papers at his desk, his shoulders moving under his jacket, and suddenly it was like a view through binoculars coming into focus. She felt a warmth grow in her heart and blossom into a smile.

2.

He drums his fingers on the handle of his crutch as he waits his turn in the florist’s shop.

This is an errand he’s never run before. He’d bought a wrist corsage for his prom date, but that was cash-and-carry and a million years ago; so much had happened since then it was as if the skinny kid buying those carnations was a stranger.

Now… Now he’d been to war and back, he was a federal agent living in the city and making decent money, and as much as the shades of his thrifty ancestors moaned in protest they had to admit that he could afford to order flowers on Valentine’s Day. And unlike last year (hadn’t gotten up the nerve yet) or the year before (bedridden in an Army hospital) or the year before that (freezing his ass off in Italy)… This year he could not only afford to send flowers but he had someone he deeply wanted to send flowers to – and who he knew would be pleased to receive them.

The florist was pushing mixed bouquets - he could hear her selling them to the men in line in front of him - but he already knew what he wanted, and the displays in the flower shop only confirmed his choice. It didn’t matter what the traditional Valentine flower was - it could be dandelions for all he cared. There was only one flower that seemed right for her, for the depth and strength and tenderness of her character, for her beauty, for her smile - and wasn’t there something about English roses? There was only one flower that seemed to speak for him, that conveyed the growth and the intensity of his feelings for her.

3.

When she meets his family for the first time, she pulls his sister aside and asks for advice. His sister is happy to help: she takes Peggy to the store and shows her everything she needs to know. Peggy takes careful notes.

The next weekend, back in her living room, she pours the coffee. She’s made it strong and rich, the way Daniel’s sister taught her, the way Daniel and his sisters had been taught by their parents and Portuguese grandparents. He takes the first sip and smiles, and Peggy is satisfied.

4.

They are dressing for the dinner party. As Daniel shaves, Peggy lays out his clothes and arranges his shoes at the side of the bed. When he finishes dressing, he admires her as she puts on her makeup and does her hair. He zips her dress in the back, and as she lifts her hair he does the clasp of her necklace and then kisses the nape of her neck.

5.

They sit side by side on the bench, their fingers intertwined. She cuddles closer to him and he puts his arm around her shoulders. She rests her cheek on his chest and her hand on his knee. Fireflies start blinking as the sun sets.


	2. Prompt: "Song"

The waitress sets down the plates. To Daniel’s surprise, Peggy pushes her own dessert off to the side and pulls his to the middle of the table. 

She takes something out of her jacket pocket: a little candle, which she sticks in his pie. She lights the candle, and as she gently pushes the plate back in front of him, she sings softly:

“Happy birthday to you,  
Happy birthday to you….”

Daniel can only smile. The most amazing woman on Earth is sitting across from him, her face illuminated by the glow of a tiny candle stuck in a piece of pie, and she is singing him the birthday song.

“Make a wish!” she says.

He doesn’t feel ready to put his wish into words, even to himself, but he pauses for the right amount of time and blows out the candle.


	3. Prompt: "Parallels"

November 1945

Peggy missed Brooklyn.

And it wasn’t just because of Steve. The Brooklyn SSR lab had been such an exciting assignment: Howard in his natural element, Dr. Erskine bringing his research to fruition… and security in the hands of people who knew what they were doing, unlike this sorry lot here at the Manhattan office. Peggy had only been here a few weeks, and she was terribly unimpressed. She knew that the SSR was in transition; she knew that most of the agents had been soldiers only a few months ago - not even soldiers who’d been detailed to the SSR. But that didn’t explain the strange lapses in common sense she was seeing.

Like now, for example. She’d gone to sign out a key for a staff car. She’d thought about just nicking it, but decided it would be too much trouble, especially since her reason for requesting a car was good (even though it had nothing to do with an actual case).

So she’d batted her eyelashes at the man in charge of the keys; he responded as she’d expected him to. As she signed out the key, she noticed that one of the other keys was out as well - but with no corresponding signature. Curious. Also curious: She hadn’t had to work too hard to notice that a key was unaccounted for. Key Man Mike, however, didn’t seem concerned.

As she walked back to the elevator, she considered. Perhaps Key Man Mike wasn’t very good at arithmetic, and just hadn’t realized that he had four keys where he should have had five. (She could completely believe that, after having spent a few weeks with some of those dullards with agents’ badges upstairs.) Or - more likely - Mike was doing someone a favor by allowing him to use an SSR car without signing it out. So who had the car, what was he using it for, and what was in it for Mike? This could be useful information. And who else would know about it? She was still getting a sense of how the currents of office gossip flowed; she could always see if the switchboard ladies knew anything, but she wondered how much they would know about the office fleet.

The elevator doors opened. She stepped in and pressed the button for the garage level.

She hadn’t been down to the garage in a few weeks, not since her official tour on her first day and the unofficial tour she’d taken herself on her second day. She simply hadn’t had the need; the few assignments that had taken her out-of-doors could all be completed on foot or by taxicab. But today she’d had cars on her mind since the morning briefing. Apparently the day before, one of the other agents had a car out and had run a stop sign; his conversation with the policeman who pulled him over became rather heated, especially when his driver’s license had been found to be expired. Chief Dooley had not been amused, and had finished this morning’s briefing with a tirade about Agents Behaving Like Agents and If You Want To Drive Like A Clown Go Join The Damn Circus. Peggy’s mind had started to wander at this point; she’d found herself furtively watching the other agents, trying to figure out who’d run the red light. When Chief Dooley moved on to And For The Love of Pete Make Sure Your Drivers Licenses Are Up To Date Each and Every One of You, she’d been amused by noting who looked uneasy and would probably be checking their wallets as soon as they returned to their desk. So when he abruptly wound up Each and Every One of You with a “that is, those of you who drive, or, you know, drive here” it took her an extra second or two to realize he’d been referring to her.

And it nettled her, because of course she could drive, it was one of the first skills she’d learned in her training. But as she started to think about it… it had been a while since she’d driven a car, and it was actually a jeep on a country road in France, and Dum Dum Dugan had been teasing her about keeping to the right (as opposed to the left) side of the road. So yes, perhaps a little practice was in order before she updated her license and took to the streets of New York.

When she reached the garage, she was surprised to find the door to the alley open, a folding chair propped next to the door - and, back inside, all five cars in their spots. Had she caught the agent who’d taken the car? Had he gone into the alley? Might he be about to come back in? She had a few likely candidates in mind. She stepped behind a column to observe what would happen.

In a minute or two, an agent did come in the garage. But to Peggy’s surprise, it was Agent Sousa – the last agent she’d ever have expected. He went straight to the folding chair and started dragging it out to the alley - an awkward job, given his leg and his need for a crutch. He didn’t notice Peggy.

She waited a few minutes for him to come back in. He didn’t. She weighed her options. Finally curiosity won out, and she went out to the alley to see what was going on.

Sousa had arranged a chair a few feet away from the side of the building. He was setting up the second chair around twenty feet away, its back towards the back of the first chair. When he’d set up the chair, he paused for a moment, leaning on his crutch and on the back of the chair, as if he were catching his breath. Peggy felt suddenly uncomfortable, as if she’d accidentally walked in on him in the loo.

She slipped back to the door, composed a plausible story, and posed herself looking in the other direction. “Hello?” she called. Oh, goodness, nobody over there, she’d just have to look the other way. “Hello – Oh! Agent Sousa!” He'd turned around. She glanced at the chairs and back at him. “I saw the garage door standing open and I was just wondering what was going on.” She walked over to where he was standing.

“Oh… hi,” he replied. His manner was guarded, beyond his usual reserve, but Peggy saw his hand folding and unfolding on his crutch handle. A possible tell - she filed it away for future reference.

But there was no getting around being found setting up folding chairs in an alley in the afternoon of a work day. He didn’t even try. “I guess you’re wondering what I’m doing.”

“Well, one hates to pry, but yes, this seems fairly unusual.”

“Believe it or not, it is work related.”

She put on a _Please tell me all about it, I’m terribly interested face_.

He looked around, as if looking for an escape route. “Chief put me in mind of it this morning. I, ah… I have a driver’s license, and I _can_ drive, but it’s been a while since I’ve been behind the wheel – that is, of an actual car. So I thought I’d, you know, get some practice.”

“But the chairs?”

“Parallel parking. Seemed like a good way to brush up before taking on Manhattan.” He started to go back inside; Peggy followed. “So what brings you down to the garage?” he asked. “Did you get a case?”

She chuckled. “How else could I have signed out a car?”

“True. I actually just told Mike the truth – I could use the practice and I don’t have a car of my own. Lucky for me, he’s an understanding guy, and he’s letting me use one of the cars for a couple of hours.” He stopped short and looked at Peggy. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t… advertise this. I don’t want to get him into trouble.”

Ah. So that’s why there was no signature - Mike was protecting himself. “I won’t say anything,” she promised.

“Thank you, Agent Carter.”

“So is he exacting any favors from you, like the supply sergeants?”

He chuckled a little. “Believe it or not, no. I’ll owe him one, sure, but just in the usual way; he didn’t demand anything up front.” They passed into the garage. “But what about your case? That’s great! Can you say anything about it?”

He looked genuinely happy for her. And he’d trusted her with the small truth of what he was doing… She decided to put him to the test. “No case. Like you, I thought it might be a good idea to get some practice, and Mike seemed to agree.”

“Can’t have agents wrecking the cars. Which one did he give you?”

“Number three.”

“He must have more faith in your skills.” He stopped in front of one of the cars. Peggy noticed the engine was warm: Sousa had already been practicing. “He gave me the old Ford. A little wear, but she still works. Why don’t you go ahead and pull out first?”

As Peggy pulled out of the garage, she felt very grateful that it was Sousa watching and not one of the other agents; there would be no jokes about female drivers coming from him. She turned into the alley.

She was rustier than she’d thought, but it started coming back to her. She practiced going forwards and backwards in the alley, and then making turns without stalling out the car. Soon she felt confident enough to take the car out to a quiet block. She thought of Sousa, parking between those silly chairs - and then she noticed how the cars were parked on the street. The chairs didn’t seem quite so silly any more. She added another note to her mental file.

It wasn’t until her third time around the block that she realized - Mike had had her sign out her key. So Mike wasn’t worried about getting in trouble for signing out cars for practice. Why didn’t Mike collect Sousa’s signature?

It came to her on her fourth time around. Chief Dooley and the other agents seemed to think she’d spent the last six or seven years in charm school instead of at war. If it got out that she’d been practicing driving, nobody would be surprised - of course a woman, especially a woman used to driving on the left, would need practice. Mike wouldn’t get in trouble; Dooley would probably congratulate him on his splendid idea.

But Sousa… “ _I **can** drive_ ”, he’d said, almost defiantly, and Chief Dooley’s words came back to her: “ _those of you who drive…_.”

Mike hadn’t been protecting himself. He was an understanding guy: He was protecting Sousa.

She felt anger welling up inside her - honestly, an agent, a veteran, feeling the need to protect himself from his fellow agents - and, yes, it sounded familiar, she admitted to herself, and then she shoved the thought away for another time and made a note on the mental file she’d started for Mike.

When she pulled back into the alley, Sousa was working on pulling out of his parking spot. The chairs were right where he’d left them, but the car’s motion was choppy and slow. She parked her car inside the garage and made sure to be very preoccupied with checking her lipstick and powdering her nose as he pulled in. As he started parking the car, she hurried out and collected the folding chairs. She stowed them inside and closed the garage door.

He climbed out of the car. “You didn’t have to get the chairs,” he said. She could tell that he was trying to sound and look cheerful, but his voice and face were a little tight, probably with frustration.

“I know,” she said. “I just didn’t want to ride up the elevator alone. Practice go all right? I think next time I practice I’m going to borrow your chair idea.”

They turned in their keys to Mike and went on to the elevator. Peggy pushed the call button. “Agent Sousa… if I tell you a little secret, will you promise not to tell?”

“Depends on the secret,” he said. His smile looked a little more genuine.

“I did not learn to drive until I joined up. I grew up in London, I never needed to learn.”

“That’s not so unusual. There are plenty of people around here who grew up in big cities and didn’t learn to drive until Uncle Sam taught them.”

“What about you?”

“I learned how when I was a teenager. But I never drove all that much; I didn’t have a car and I didn’t really need one where I grew up.”

“Something we have in common, then.”

“A little, maybe. You’d never confuse the town I grew up in with London.”

The elevator doors opened to their floor. Sousa let Peggy exit first.

“So what exciting work awaits this afternoon?” Peggy asked. They were drawing near the office doors.

“I think I’m going to play hooky for a few more minutes.” Sousa nodded towards the end of the hall and the door to the men’s room.

“Ah. Until later, then,” she said. He headed off down the hall; she turned and went into the office.

Agent Sousa’s desk was two spots up from hers, so she’d passed his desk dozens of times over the last couple of weeks. As she passed it today, it caught her attention: it wasn’t just Agent Sousa’s desk, it was now the desk of Someone (At Least) Tolerable. Her new assignment might never be as exhilarating as the Brooklyn lab, but today… today it had become perhaps a little less dreary.


End file.
